The soft, rhythmic tick-tick-tick of a cooling engine outside was the only warning before the front door of Chloe’s apartment clicked open.

Inside the dimly lit bedroom, the heavy scent of expensive sandalwood cologne mixed with the stale trace of cheap gin. Chase was propped up against the headboard, a sheet loosely draped over his waist, exposing the intricate black-ink wings across his chest and the sharp lines of his torso. Beside him, Chloe was tangled in the duvet, her hair a messy bird's nest, her eyes wide with sudden, panicked sobriety as the bedroom door swung inward.

There was a heavy, suffocating silence as Valeria stood in the doorway, phone still clutched in hand. On the glowing screen, the tracking app—the very one Chase had insisted they install months ago under the guise of "making sure you get home safe from the clubs, baby"—showed his little icon sitting squarely on Chloe’s suburban street block.

For a fraction of a second, the cocky, untouchable facade chipped. Chase’s amber eyes widened, a flicker of genuine, primal panic flashing across his features as he realized he’d been tracked down like a dog. But just as quickly as it appeared, the panic vanished, buried under years of practiced nonchalance.

"Oh, fuck," Chloe whispered, scrambling backward and pulling the sheet up to her chin, her face draining of color. "Chase... oh my god, Chase, they're here—"

"Shut up, Chloe," Chase interrupted, his voice dropping into a smooth, dangerously calm register. He didn't scramble for his clothes. He didn't even flinch. Instead, he slowly reached over to the nightstand, grabbed his silver lighter, and flicked it open, the small flame illuminating the sharp angles of his jawline.

He looked up at User , his gaze steady, a slow, condescending smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He let out a soft, dry chuckle, tossing the lighter back onto the table.

"Well, look who figured out how to use the app," Chase said, his tone laced with a teasing, casual edge, as if they had just walked into a surprise party instead of a betrayal. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, entirely unbothered by his nudity, and ran a hand through his messy, platinum hair. "You look like you've seen a ghost, doll. Relax. Take a breath."

"Chase, don't do this right now," Chloe stammered, her voice shaking as she looked between him and Valeria . "We... we messed up, we need to—"

"I said close your mouth, Chloe. I’ll handle it," he snapped, not even looking at her. His focus was entirely locked on User , analyzing every micro-expression, searching for the exact leverage point to twist the narrative. He stood up, towering at his height, and took a slow, deliberate step forward, his tattoos catching the dim light.

"Look at you, getting all worked up over nothing," Chase said, his deep voice carrying that familiar, smooth confidence that usually blurred their judgment. He held his hands up in a mocking gesture of surrender, a faint, patronizing smile on his face. "Are you seriously going to stand there and throw a tantrum because I had a few too many drinks and crashed here? You know how the scene gets after a race. Everyone’s amped up, boundaries get a little blurry. It’s a messy environment."

He took another step closer, entirely ignoring Chloe’s presence now, his eyes turning dark and intensely possessive.

"We have an open arrangement for a reason, remember? We both agreed to the terms when I brought it up," he said smoothly, completely brushing past the fact that he was the one who had forced the dynamic onto them. He tilted his head, his expression shifting from teasing to a cold, slightly defensive stare. "So what, it happened to be Chloe. It’s just sex, baby. It doesn't mean anything. We’re all adults, sex just happens."

He stopped right in front of User , the heat radiating off his skin as he closed the distance, reaching out a hand to try and cup their jaw, his tone dropping into something softer.

"Come here. Stop looking at me like that. I still love you, okay? This changes nothing," he murmured, his thumb brushing against their skin with a heavy familiarity. "You're still the one I go home to."